


But What Does It Mean?

by AdrianaintheSnow



Series: Is There Anything Left of Patton? [10]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, Patton is a zombie, guns mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24139288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrianaintheSnow/pseuds/AdrianaintheSnow
Summary: Virgil sunk down to sit on the edge of the bathtub with his head in his hands. “I have no fucking idea.”
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Is There Anything Left of Patton? [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1639429
Comments: 88
Kudos: 232





	But What Does It Mean?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my favorite part. I don’t know why. I just love it.

To say Roman was surprised when, after Logan fixed the front door Remy had kicked in, Roman and Remy hadn’t end up tossed out on the other side of it was an understatement. He had done his best to apologize to Logan about the incident, but Logan had blown him off, not seeming to want to talk about it other than to tell Roman that he and Remy were to stay downstairs. He wasn’t sure how Logan could stand to look at him, let alone let him set up camp in his living room after what he’d done.

Roman felt horrible. That was probably the worst thing he’d ever done and Roman had had to do a lot of horrible things in the last couple of years.

How had he been so stupid? Sure, Patton had been kind of dull eyed and reacted to the whistling thing, but he should have listened to Logan and made absolutely sure before he pointed a fucking gun at the poor thing. What was wrong with him?

Thinking about it again, Roman felt his stomach clench and he set his head down on the kitchen table.

It had been hours after Logan took Patton upstairs that Logan had finally reappeared. His friend, Virgil as he’d later learned, hadn’t even come back down but stayed upstairs with Patton. Despite the invitation they had been given to eat macaroni from Virgil, neither Remy nor Roman had felt comfortable with that and had eaten some of their own food instead.

Roman had expected to get kicked out then and there, but instead Logan had shown them the living room and the study, told them they could sleep in the living room, and headed back upstairs with barely a mention of Patton. Somehow their tenuous relationship from before the apocalypse was enough for Logan to look past the very rude way Roman had introduced himself to his boyfriend. It was very kind of him and very lucky for Roman and Remy because Logan had an unbelievably well put together house. He had a fucking microwave. Who the fuck had enough electricity for a fucking microwave in the apocalypse? It was like stepping back in time two years standing in this house. It was almost eerie. Of course, he’d only been here two days. Maybe he’d get used to it eventually.

One of the many perks in Logan’s house was coffee, especially when it was 3am (according to the clock on the aforementioned microwave, and wow, having electricity again was such a trip). Roman had made himself a pot around 20 minutes ago and he took a sip of the still slightly warm liquid once he managed to peel his head back off the tabletop.

He’s been scratching out poetry in his journal for the past hour or so after waking up from his nightmares. After all this time, he knew he wouldn’t be going back to sleep after that. The coffee made the night just a bit more pleasant.

He heard a door open and close upstairs and paused to listen as light footsteps padded across the hall and down the stairs. The footsteps trailed to the kitchen doorway and Roman froze when a presence joined him in the room.

It was Patton.

“Er… hey there,” said Roman. The man made a grunting sound and lumbered straight by him, directly to the coffee machine. Roman puffed out an amused breath. “Valid.” He turned his eyes away and started chewing on the back of his pen as he heard the man grab one of the mugs nearby and pour himself a cup of coffee. He glanced up to see him take a long drink of it.

Patton set the mug down when it was drained and stared at Roman for a long moment without blinking. He did not speak at any point. Instead, he turned to the kitchen cabinets and grabbed a pot.

“What are you cooking?” Roman asked.

He didn’t respond verbally, just grabbed a box of macaroni and cheese out of the cabinet.

“Ah, I see,” Roman responded. He watched as Patton started filling the pan with water and set it on the stove to boil.

When the dry pasta went into the water, Roman bit his lip before he spoke back up. “I am, uh, sorry about the whole insisting you were a zombie thing,” he said quietly. “I was out of line. It’s just, you know, a bit of a stressful time and I… I’ve seen a lot too. I’m pretty sure I have a major case of PTSD by this point.” He ran a hand through his hair and gave a half smile. “I mean, I guess we all do, huh? Mine just comes out as being a prick and yours comes out as freezing up. So, yeah… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry if my behavior hurt you more. It wasn’t my intention to do harm.”

The man didn’t respond. He just stirred the macaroni noodles with his back still turned to Roman. Roman hunched his shoulders and looked away.

A few minutes later, Patton strained the noodles and stirred in the cheese pack. Then, he dished out a portion, grabbed a spoon, and slid the bowl over to Roman. Roman blinked at it. “This is for me?” he asked softly. The man just stared at him for a moment before turning away. He grabbed Tupperware out of the cabinet and spooned the rest of the dish into it before shoving it into the refrigerator. “Aren’t you going to eat some?” he asked. Patton just walked back the way he’d come. “Thanks,” Roman called after him. He looked down at the bowl of pasta in front of him. It clearly wasn’t complete forgiveness, but it was an olive branch. He ate the macaroni and cheese.

“God dammit, why does he keep making this stuff?” Logan grumbled to himself, pulling out yet another Tupperware container full of macaroni and cheese from his refrigerator in the morning.

“Oh, he actually made it for me,” Roman said from his seat at the kitchen table.

Logan drew back from the refrigerator to look at him. Virgil had for the most part tried to stay away from their new guests unless Logan was in the room. “Why would Virgil make it for you?” he asked.

“Why would Virgil what?” Virgil asked as he came into the kitchen.

“Not Virgil,” Roman said with a frown. “Patton made it.”

Virgil and Logan both stared at him for a long moment. “Patton made it?” Logan asked blankly. “How do-how do know Patton made it?”

Roman raised an eyebrow at him. “Because I watched him make it… He came down at like 3am to cook it and then must have decided he wasn’t hungry, so he got me a bowl and went back to bed.”

Logan slowly turned to Virgil. “Virgil,” he said calmly. “Have you been recently making an endless supply of boxed macaroni and putting it into the refrigerator almost every night?”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Are… are you saying _you_ haven’t been?”

“I have not.”

“Why are you two acting weird?” Roman asked. “It’s just macaroni.”

“Patton used to love to cook,” Logan said slowly. It felt like his mind was a stalled engine turning over. “But, he hasn’t done any cooking in a very long time.”

“Oh,” Roman replied sounding sad. But he didn’t _know_. He had no idea. “But that means he’s getting better, right?’

Logan looked over at Virgil who was frozen in place. “Perhaps,” Logan agreed.

“Oh, it’ll be fine, Logan. He doesn’t know how to open a door, Logan,” Logan whispered harshly to him in the upstairs bathroom 10 minutes later.

“Yeah, well, forgive me. I also didn’t know he knew how to make fucking macaroni and cheese,” Virgil spat, waving his hands around.

“Oh god, he could have escaped,” Logan said, bracing his arm on the wall and squeezing his eyes closed. “He could have just wandered out the front door and we’d never have found him again.”

Virgil sighed. “Well, he didn’t okay,” he soothed. “He just made macaroni and cheese. A lot of macaroni and cheese.” He paused. “W-why has he been plaguing our lives with macaroni and cheese?”

Logan snorted out a laugh. “I,” he chuckled. “I have no idea.” He started to laugh in earnest, doubling over with it.

Virgil slapped him on the back a couple of times. “Logan, you okay buddy?”

“I’m fine,” he wheezed. “This is fine. Better than fine. It’s good. Cooking even nonsensically still implies some sort of higher brain function. So, this is great.” His eyes started to water, and his next words were choked with sobs instead of laughter. “Why fucking macaroni and cheese? What does… what does this mean?”

Virgil sunk down to sit on the edge of the bathtub with his head in his hands. “I have no fucking idea.”


End file.
